OLD  SONGS 


■        •  •  a  •  •  _ 


o 


LD SONGS 

WITH   DRAWINGS  BY 

EDWIN  A- ABBEY 

&  ALFRED  PARSONS 


NEW  YORK  •  HARPER  &  BROTHERS  ■  PRINTERS  & 
PUBLISHERS- FRANKLIN  SQUARE  •  M  DCCC  LXXXIX 


C0TY1UGHT,    1888,  <BK 
Qill  lights  cReserved. 


PAGE 

A  Love  Song / 

" Why  canst  Thou  not,  as  Others  do" 15 

"With  Jockey  to  the  Fair" 19 

" Sweet  Nelly,  my  Heart's  Delight" 27 

"  What  hap  had  I  to  Marry  a  Shrow  " 33 

The  Leather  Bottel 37 

Never  Love   Thee  More 49 

"Here's  to  the  Maiden  0/  Bashful  Fifteen"     •     •     •     •  53 

Barbara  Allen 57 

Perigot  and  Cuddy's  Roundelay 67 

Sally  in  Our  Alley 73 

v 


501)605 


PAGE 

"Early  One  Morning" gr 

Kitty  of  Coleraine gg 

Old  King  Cole gy 

Harvest  Home IOI 

Down  in  Cupid's  Garde7i /oy 

Phillada  Flouts  Me //7 


A  LOVE  SONC 


Wm 


SKA.    ~  .;.  v 


F>;C2 

S»n 

il 

C  "~y . 

I^ff          J 

%"3 

L.  Mil 

A    LOVE  SONG. 

BY     GEORGE     WITHER. 

LOV'D  a  lasse,  a  faire  one, 
As  faire  as  e'er  was  seene: 

She  was,  indeed,  a  rare  one, 
Another  Sheba  queen; 


But, 


But,  foole,  as  then  I  was, 

I  thought  she  lov'd  me  too ; 

But,  now,  alasse!  sh'as  left  me, 
Falero,  lero,  loo. 


Her  haire,  like  gold,  did  glister; 

Each  eye  was  like  a  starre ; 
She  did  surpasse  her  sister, 

Which  past  all  others  farre: 


She 


She  would  me  hony  call ; 

She'd,  oh,  she'd  kisse   me  too 
But,  now,  alasse!  sh'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


In 


In  summer-time,  to  Medley 

My  love  and  I  would  goe — 
The  boatmen  there  stood  readie 

My  love  and   I  to   rowe ; 
For  creame  there  would  we  call, 

For  cakes,  and  for  prunes  too; 
But,  now,  alasse !  sh'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


Many  a  merry  meeting 

My  love  and  I  have  had: 

She  was   my  onely  sweeting; 
She  made  my  heart  full  glad: 


The 


The  teares  stood  in  her  eyes, 
Like  to  the  morning-dew; 

But,  now,  alasse !  sh'as  left  me, 
Falero,  Zero,  loo. 


And  as  abroad  we  walked, 

As  lovers'  fashion  is, 
Oft,  as  we  sweetly  talked, 

The  sun  would  steale  a  kisse; 
The  winde  upon  her  lips 

Likewise  most  sweetly  blew ; 
But,  now,  alasse !  sh'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


Her  cheekes  were  like  the  cherrie, 

Her  skin  as  white  as  snow; 
When  she  was  blyth  and  merrie, 

She  angel-like  did  show; 
Her  wast  exceeding  small, 

The  fives  did  fit  her  shoo ; 
But,  now,  alasse !  sh'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


In  summer-time  or  winter 

She  had  her  heart's  desire; 
I  stil  did  scorne  to  stint  her 

From  sugar,  sacke,  or  fire : 
The  world  went  round  about; 

No  cares  we  ever  knew ; 
But,  now,  alasse !  sh'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


As  i 


As  we  walked  home  together, 

At  midnight,  through  the  tovvne, 
To  keepe  away  the  weather, 

O're  her  I'd  cast  my  gowne ; 
No  colde  my  love  should  feele,    . 

Whate'er  the  heavens  could  doe ; 
But,  now,  alasse !  sh'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


Like 


Like  doves  we  would  be  billing, 

And  clip  and  kisse  so  fast, 
Yet  she  would  be  unwilling 

That  I  should  kisse  the  last : 
They're  Judas  kisses  now, 

Since  that  they  prov'd  untrue ; 
For,  now,  alasse !  sh'as  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


10 


To 


To  maidens'  vowes  and  swearing 

Henceforth  no  credit  give; 
You  may  give  them  the  hearing, 

But  never  them  beleeve: 
They  are  as  false  as  faire, 

Unconstant,  fraile,  untrue; 
For  mine,  alasse !  hath  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


'Twas  I  that  paid  for  all  things, 

'Twas  others  dranke  the  wine; 
I  cannot  now  recall  things, 

Live  but  a  foole  to  pine : 
'Twas  I  that  beat  the  bush, 

The  bird  to  others  flew; 
For  she,  alasse !  hath  left   me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


If  ever  that  Dame  Nature, 

For  this  false  lover's  sake, 
Another  pleasing  creature 

Like  unto  her  would  make, 
Let  her  remember  this, 

To  make  the  other  true; 
For  this,  alasse !  hath  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


No  riches,  now,  can  raise  me, 
No  want  make  me  despaire, 

No  miserie  amaze  me, 

Nor  yet  for  want  I  care : 


ii 


I  have 


I  have  lost  a  world  it  selfe. 

My  earthly  heaven,  adue ! 
Since  she,  alasse !  hath  left  me, 

Falero,  lero,  loo. 


Why  canftThou  not 
as  Others  dcr 


"WHY  CANST  THOU  NOT  AS  OTHERS  DO?' 

HY  canst  thou  not,  as  others  do, 

Look  on  me  with  unwounding  eyes? 
And  yet  look  sweet,  but  yet  not  so, 
Smile,  but  not  in  killing  wise; 
Arm  not   thy  graces   to  confound; 
Only  look,  but  do  not  wound. 


Why  should  mine  eyes  see  more  in  you 
Than  they  can  see  in  all  the  rest? 

For  I  can  others'  beauties  view, 
And  not  find  my  heart  opprest. 

O  be  as  others  are  to  me, 

Or  let  me  be  more  to  thee. 


16 


«iM*W#»ftrttM^^ 


*S 


> "1 1 1 HIIIIVT 'UIIFIIl'millHllilil  !MW'll!IIIH1l"IHhlll|lllffl|IM|l|IIH'i,l"  E  tlUi.Hlinil 


i< 


Wc'tf)  Jockey 
to  tf)t  (Jair " 


"WITH  JOCKEY   TO    THE  FAIR." 

WAS  on  the  morn  of  sweet  May-day, 
When  nature  painted  all  things   gay — 
Taught  birds  to  sing  and  lambs  to  play 
And  deck'd  the  meadows  fair — 
Young  Jockey  early  in  the  morn 
Arose  and  tripped  it  o'er  the  lawn. 
His  Sunday  coat  the  youth  put  on ; 
For  Jenny  had  vowed  away  to  run 
With  Jockey  to  the  fair. 


The  cheerful  parish  bells  had  rung. 
With  eager  steps  he  trudg'd  along ; 
Sweet  flowing  garlands  round  him  hung, 

Which  shepherds  us'd  to  wear. 
He  tapp'd  the  window.    "  Hush,  my  dear!" 
Jenny,  impatient,  cried,  "Who's  there?" 
"  'Tis  I,  my  love,  and  no  one  near. 
Step  gently  down,  you've  naught  to  fear 

With  Jockey  to  the  fair." 


My 


20 


k   f 

1 

1 

Ml  m 

fiJl 

■Agfflm 

T'' 


"  My  dad  and  mammy  're  fast  asleep. 
My  brother  up  and  with  the  sheep. 
And  will  you  still  your  promise  keep, 

Which  I  have  heard  you  swear? 
And  will  you  ever  constant  prove  ?" 
"  I  will,  by  all  the  pow'rs  above ! 
And  ne'er  deceive  my  charming  dove. 
Dispel  those  doubts,  and  haste,  my  love, 

With  Jockey  to  the  fair." 


"  Behold  the  ring !"  the  shepherd  cried. 
"  Will  Jenny  be  my  charming  bride  ? 
Let  Cupid  be  our  happy  guide, 

And  Hymen  meet  us  there." 
Then  Jockey  did  his  vows  renew — 
He  would  be  constant,  would  be  true. 
His  word  was  pledged,  away  she  flew, 
With  cowslips  sparkling  with  the  dew, 

With  Jockey  to  the  fair. 


Soon  did  they  meet  a  joyful  throng. 
Their  gay  companions,  blithe  and  young, 
Each  joins  the  dance,  each  joins  the  song 

To  hail  the  happy  pair. 
What  two  were  e'er  so  fond  as  they? 
All  bless  the  kind  propitious  day — 
The  smiling  morn,  the  blooming   May, 
When  lovely  Jenny   ran  away 

With  Jockey  to  the  fair. 


23 


z&S'lt 


(4 


et 


my 
Wart's  Delight. 


w 


>Vfr#a 


"SWEET  NELLY,  MY  HEART'S  DELIGHT" 


He. 


WEET  Nelly,  my  heart's  delight, 
Be  loving,  and  do  not  slight 
The  proffer  I  make 
For  modesty's  sake. 
I  honor  your  beauty  bright; 
For  love  I  profess, 
I  can  do  no  less. 
Thou  hast  my  favor  won. 
And  since  I  see 
Your  modesty, 
I  pray  you  agree, 
And  fancy  me, 
Though   I'm  but  a  farmer's  son. 


She. 


29 


She.     No;   I  am  a  lady  gay; 

It  is  very  well  known   I  may 
Have  men  of  renown 
In  country  or  town. 

So,  Roger,  without  delay 

Court  Bridget,  or  Sue, 
Kate,  Nancy,  or  Prue; 

Their  loves  will  soon  be  won ; 
But  don't  you  dare 
To  speak  me  fair, 
As  if  I  were 
At  my  last  pray'r 

To  marry  a  farmer's  son. 

He.     My  father  has  riches  in  store, 

Two  hundred  a  year  and  more, 
Besides  sheep  and  cows, 
Carts,  harrows,  and  ploughs 

His  age  is  above  threescore, 
And  when  he  does  die, 
Then  merrily  I 

Shall  have  what  he  has  won. 
Both  land  and  kine, 
All  shall  be  thine, 
If  thou'lt  incline, 
And  will  be  mine, 

And  marry  a  farmer's  son. 

She.     A  fig  for  your  cattle  and  corn ! 
Your  proffered  love   I  scorn. 
'Tis  known  very  well 
My  name  it  is  Nell, 
And  you're  but  a  bumpkin  born. 


30 


He. 


41 


He.  Well,  since  it  is  so, 

Away  I  will  go, 
And  I  hope  no  harm  is  done. 
Farewell !  adieu ! 
I  hope  to  woo 
As  good  as  you, 
And  win  her  too, 
Though  I'm  but  a  farmer's  son. 


She.     Be  not  in  such  haste,  quoth  she ; 
Perhaps  we  may  still  agree, 


3i 


For, 


For,  man,  I  protest 

I  was  but  in  jest ; 
Come,  prithee,  sit  clown  by  me. 

For  thou  art  the  man 

That  verily  can 
Win  me  if  e'er  I'm  won. 

Both  straight  and  tall, 

Genteel  withal, 

Therefore   I  shall 

Be  at  your  call 
To  marry  a  farmer's  son. 


He.     Dear  Nelly,  believe  me  now, 
I  solemnly  swear  and  vow 

No  lords   in  their  lives 

Take  pleasure   in  wives 
Like  we  that  do  drive  the  plough. 

Whatever  we  gain 

With  labor  or  pain, 
We  don't   after  wantons   run, 

As  courtiers  do. 

And  I  never  knew 

A  London  beau 

That  could  outdo 
A  country  farmer's  son. 


32 


What  hap 

had  I 
to  marry 
a  Shrow" 


WHAT  HAP  HAD  I  TO  MARRY  A   SHROWT 


HAT  hap  had  I  to  marry  a  shrow! 
F"or  she  hath  given  me  many  a  blow, 
And  how  to  please  her,  alack !  I  do  not  know. 


From  morn  to  even  her  tongue  ne'er  lies ; 

Sometimes  she  brawls,  sometimes  she  cries ; 

Yet  I  can  scarce  keep  her  talents  from  mine  eyes. 


If  I  go  abroad  and  late  come  in, 

"  Sir  Knave,"  saith  she,  "  where  have  you  been  ?' 

And  do  I  well  or  ill,  she  claps  me  on  the  skin. 


34 


THE  LEATHER   BOTTEL. 


WAS  God  above  that  made  all  thinsrs, 
The  heav'ns,  the  earth,  and  all  therein, 
The  ships  that  on  the  sea  do  swim 
To  guard  from  foes  that  none  come  in ; 
And  let  them  all  do  what  they  can, 
'Twas  for  one  end — the  use  of  man. 

So  I  wish  in  heav'n  his  soul  may  dwell 
That  first  found  out  the  leather  bottel. 


Now,  what  do  you  say  to  these  cans  of  wood  ? 
Oh  no,  in  faith  they  cannot  be  good ; 
For  if  the  bearer  fall  by  the  way, 
Why,  on  the  ground  your  liquor  doth  lay ; 
But  had  it  been  in  a  leather  bottel, 
Although  he  had  fallen  all  had  been  well. 
So  I  wish  in  keavn,  etc. 


Then 


38 


Then  what  do  you  say  to  these  glasses  fine  ? 
Oh,  they  shall  have  no  praise  of  mine, 
For  if  you  chance  to  touch  the  brim, 
Down  falls  the  liquor  and  all  therein ; 
But  had  it  been  in  a  leather  bottel, 
And  the  stoppel  in,  all  had  been  well. 
So  I  wish  in  heavu,  etc. 


39 


Then 


■.:ym  m 


Then  what  do  you  say  to  these  black  pots  three? 
If  a  man  and  his  wife  should  not  agree, 
Why,  they'll  tug  and  pull  till  their  liquor  doth  spill ; 
In  a  leather  bottel  they  may  tug  their  fill, 
And  pull  away  till  their  hearts  do  ake, 
And  yet  their  liquor  no  harm  can  take. 
So  I  wish  in  heavn,  etc. 

Then 
42 


Then  what  do  you  say  to  these  flagons  fine? 
Oh,  they  shall  have   no   praise  of  mine, 
For  when  a  Lord  is  about  to  dine, 
And  sends  them  to  be  filled  with  wine, 
The  man  with  the  flagon  doth  run  away, 


Because  it  is   silver  most   gallant  and 


6' 


gay- 


So  I  wish  in  heavn,  etc. 


A  leather  bottel  we  know  is  good, 
Far  better  than  glasses  or  cans   of  wood, 
For  when  a  man's   at  work   in  the   field, 
Your  glasses   and  pots   no  comfort  will  yield; 
But  a  good  leather  bottle  standing  by 
Will  raise  his  spirits  whenever  he's  dry. 
So  I  wish  in  heavn,  etc. 


At  noon,  the  haymakers  sit  them  down, 
To  drink  from  their  bottles  of  ale  nut-brown; 
In  summer,  too,  when  the  weather  is  warm, 
A  good  bottle  full  will  do  them  no  harm. 
Then  the  lads  and  the  lasses  begin  to  tottle, 
But  what  would  they  do  without  this  bottle  ? 
So  I  wish  in  heavn,  etc. 


There's  never  a  Lord,  an   Earl,  or   Knight, 
But  in  this  bottle  doth  take  delight ; 
For  when  he's  hunting  of  the  deer, 
He  oft  doth  wish  for  a  bottle  of  beer. 
Likewise  the  man  that  works   in  the  wood, 
A  bottle  of  beer  will  oft  do  him  good. 
So  I  wish  in  heavn,  etc. 

And 

44 


And  when  the  bottle  at  last  grows  old, 
And  will  good  liquor  no  longer  hold, 
Out  of  the  side  you  may  take  a  clout, 
To  mend  your  shoes  when  they're  worn  out; 
Or  take  and  hang  it  up  on  a  pin, 
'Twill  serve  to  put  hinges  and  odd  things  in. 
So  I  wish  in  heavn,  etc. 


jyEvsr; 

LOWJMK 
MORZ 


NEVER   LOVE    THEE  MORE. 


Y  dear  and  only  love,  take  heed 
How  thou  thyself  expose 
By  letting  longing  lovers  feed 
Upon  such  looks  as  those. 
I'll  marhle-wall  thee  round  about, 

And  build  without  a  door ; 
But  if  thy  heart  do  once  break  out, 
I'll  never  love  thee   more. 


Let  not  their  oaths,  by  volleys   shot, 

Make  any  breach  at  all, 
Nor  smoothness  of  their  language  plot 

A  way  to  scale  the  wall ; 
No  balls  of  wildfire  love  consume 

The  shrine  which   I  adore ; 
For  if  such  smoke  about  it  fume, 

I'll  never  love  thee  more. 


5° 


Then 


Then  if  by  fraud  or  by  consent 

To  ruin  thou  shouldst  come, 
I'll  sound  no  trouble  as  of  wont, 

Nor  march  by  beat  of  drum, 
But  fold  my  arms,  like  ensigns,  up, 

Thy  falsehood  to  deplore, 
And  after  such  a  bitter  cup 

I'll  never  love  thee  more. 


"Here's  to  the  Maiden 
of  Baf hf uJ  Fifteen " 


"here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful 

fifteen:' 


ERE'S  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen, 
Now  to  the  widow  of  fifty; 
Here's  to  the  flaunting  extravagant  quean, 
And  here's  to  the  housewife  that's  thrifty. 
Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink  to  the  lass ; 
I  warrant  she'll  prove 
An  excuse  for  the  glass. 


Here's  to  the  charmer  whose  dimples  we  prize, 
Now  to  the  damsel  with  none,  sir ; 

Here's  to  the  girl  with  a  pair  of  blue  eyes, 
And  now  to  the  nymph  with  but  one,  sir. 
Let  the  toast,  etc. 


Here's  to  the  maid  with  a  bosom  of  snow, 
Now  to  her  that's  as  brown  as  a  berry; 

Here's  to  the  wife  with  a  face  full  of  woe, 
And  now  to  the  damsel  that's  merry. 
Let  the  toast,  etc. 


For 


54 


For  let  her  be  clumsy  or  let  her  be  slim, 
Young  or  ancient,  I  care   not  a  feather; 

So  fill  up  a  bumper,  nay,  fill  to  the  brim, 
And  let  us  e'en  toast  'em  together. 
Let  the  toast,  etc. 


BARBARA   ALLEN. 


LL  in  the  merry  Month  of  May, 

when  green  leaves  they  was  springing, 
This  young  man  on  his  Death -bed  lay, 
for  the  love  of  Barbara  Allen. 


He  sent  his  man  unto  her  then, 

in  the  Town  where  she  was  dwelling: 

You  must  come  to  my  Master  dear, 
if  your  name  be  Barbara  Allen. 


For  Death  is  printed  in  his  face, 

and  Sorrow's  in  him  dwelling, 
And  you  must  come  to  my  Master  dear, 

if  your  name  is  Barbara  Allen. 

If 

59 


If  Death  be  printed  on  his  face, 
and  Sorrow's  in  him  dwelling. 

Then  little  better  shall  he  be 
for  Bonny  Barbara  Allen. 


So 


60 


5/M! 

*"  Vp 


So  slowly,  slowly  she  got  up, 

and  so  slowly  she  came  to  him, 

And  all  she  said  when  she  came  there, 
young  Man,  I  think  you  are  a  dying. 


61 


He 


He  turn'd  his  face  unto  her  then: 
if  you  be  Barbara  Allen, 

My  dear,  said  he,  come  pitty  me, 
as  on  my  Death -bed  I  am  lying. 


If  on  your  Death- bed  you  be  lying, 
what  is  that  to  Barbara  Allen? 

I  cannot  keep  you  from  Death, 
so  farewell,  said  Barbara  Allen. 


He  turn'd  his  face  unto  the  Wall, 
and  Death  came  creeping  to  him 

Then  adieu,  adieu,  and  adieu  to  all, 
and  adieu  to  Barbara  Allen. 


And  as  she  was  walking  on  a  day, 
she  heard  the  Bell  a  Ringing, 

And  it  did  seem  to  ring  to  her, 
unworthy  Barbara  Allen. 


She  turn'd  herself  round  about, 

and  she  spy'd  the  Corps  a  coming: 

Lay  down,  Lay  down  the  Corps  of  Clay, 
that  I  may  look  upon  him. 


And  all  the  while  she  looked  on, 
so  loudly  she  was  laughing; 

While  all  her  Friends  cry'd  amain, 
unworthy  Barbara  Allen. 


When 


62 


'VJ3 


;,,'>/ 


/ 


When  he  was  dead  &  laid  in  Grave, 
then  Death  came  creeping  to  she. 

O  Mother!   Mother!  make  my  Bed, 

for  his  Death  hath  quite  undone  me. 


63 


A  hard 


A  hard  hearted  Creature  that  I  was, 
to  slight  one  that  loved  me  so  dearly; 

I   wish   I  had  been  more  kinder  to  him, 

the  time  of  his  Life,  when  he  was  near  me. 


So  this  Maid  she  then  did  dye, 
and  desired  to  be  buried  by  him, 

And  repented  herself  before  she  dy'd 
that  ever  she  did  deny  him. 


JC2 


J>erisot&  Cuddy's 
Jiguncfetqy. 


£*s 


PER/GOT  AND   CUDDY'S  ROUNDELAY. 

BY    EDM.    SPENSER. 

r  fell  upon  a  holy- eve 

(Heigho,  holy -day!), 
When  holy  fathers  wont  to  shrive 
(Now  'ginneth  this   roundelay), 
Sitting  upon  a  hill  so  high 
(Heigho,  the  high  hill!) 
The  while  my  flock  did  feed  thereby, 

The  while  the  shepherd's  self  did  spill. 


I  saw  the  bouncing  Bellibone 

(Heigho,  bonny- bell !) 
Tripping  over  the  dale  alone — 

She  can  trip  it  very  well  — 
Well  decked  in  a  frock  of  gray 

(Heigho,  gray  is  great!) 
And  in  a  kirtle  of  green  say — 

The  green  is  for  maidens  meet. 


A  chaplet  on  her  head  she  wore 
(Heigho,  the  chaplet!); 

Of  sweet  violets  therein  was  store- 
She's  sweeter  than  the  violet. 


69 


My 


My  sheep  did  leave  their  wonted  food 

(Heigho,  silly  sheep!) 
And  gazed  on  her  as  they  were  wood- 

Wood  as  he  that  did  them  keep. 


As  the  bonny  lass  passed  by 

(Heigho,  bonny  lass!) 
She  rolled  at  me  with  glancing  eye 

As  clear  as  the  crystal  glass. 
All  as  the  sunny  beam  so  bright 

(Heigho,  the  sunbeam!) 
Glanceth  from  Phoebus'  face  forth  -  right, 

So  love  into  my  heart  did  stream. 


Or  as  the  thunder  cleaves  the  clouds 

(Heigho,  the  thunder!) 
Wherein  the  lightsome  leaven  shrouds, 

So  cleaves  my  soul  asunder; 
Or  as  dame  Cynthia's  silver  ray 

(Heigho,  the  moonlight!) 
Upon  the  glistening  wave  doth  play, 

Such  play  is  a  piteous  plight. 


The  glance  into  my  heart  did  glide 

(Heigho,  the  glide !), 
Therewith  my  soul  was  sharply  gride. 

Such  wounds  some  waxen  wide ; 
Hasting  to  wrench  the  arrow  out 

(Heigho,  Perigot !), 
I  left  the  head  in  my  heart-root: 

It  was  a  desperate  shot. 


71 


Then 


Then  it  rankleth  aye  more  and  more 

(Heigho,  the  arrow!), 
Nor  can   I  find  salve  for  my  sore — 

Love  is  a  cureless  sorrow. 
And  though  my  bale  with  death   I  bought 

(Heigho,  heavy  cheer!) 
Yet  should  this  lass  not  from  my  thought, 

So  you  may  buy  gold  too  dear. 


But  whether  in  painful  love  I  pine 

(Heigho,  pinching  pain!) 
Or  thrive  in  wealth,  she  shall  be  mine. 

But  if  thou  can  her  obtain, 
And  if  for  graceless  grief  I  die 

(Heigho,  graceless  grief!), 
Witness  she  slew  me  with  her  eye, 

Let  thy  folly  be  the  preef  (sic). 


And  you  that  saw  it,  simple  sheep 

(Heigho,  the  fair  flock!), 
For  prief  thereof  my  death  shall  weep 

And  moan  with  many  a  mock. 
So  learn'd  I  love  on  a  holy-eve 

(Heigho,  holy-day!) 
That  ever  since  my  heart  did  grieve. 

Now  endeth  our  roundelay. 


72 


"7"  . 


SALLY 'WC 'OWRALLEY 

Aso^cgby 

H.CAT^Y 


SALLY  LN  OUR   ALLEY. 


F  all  the  girls  that  are  so  smart 
There's  none  like  pretty  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 
And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 
There  is  no  lady  in  the  land 
Is  half  so  sweet  as  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 
And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 


Her  father  he  makes  cabbage-nets, 

And  through  the  streets  does  cry  'em  ; 

Her  mother  she  sells  laces  long 
To  such  as  please  to  buy  'em ; 


But 


74 


But  sure  such  folks  could  ne'er  beget 

So  sweet  a  girl  as  Sally ! 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 


When  she  is  by,  I  leave  my  work, 
I  love  her  so  sincerely ; 

My  master  comes  like  any  Turk, 
And  bangs  me  most  severely; 


76 


But 


But  let  him  bang  his  bellyful, 
I'll  bear  it  all  for  Sally: 

She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 
And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 


*% 


/ 


77 


Of 


Of  all  the  days  that's  in  the  week 

I  dearly  love  but  one  day, 
And  that's  the  day  that  comes  betwixt 

A  Saturday  and  Monday ; 
For  then  I'm  drest  all  in  my  best 

To  walk  abroad  with  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 


80 


My 


My  master  carries  me  to  church, 

And  often  am  I  blamed 
Because  I  leave  him  in  the  lurch 

As  soon  as  text  is  named; 
I  leave  the  church  in  sermon -time 

And  slink  away  to  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 


When  Christmas  comes  about  again, 

Oh,  then  I  shall  have  money; 
I'll  hoard  it  up,  and  box  it  all, 

I'll  give  it  to  my  honey: 
I  would  it  were  ten  thousand  pound, 

I'd  give  it  all  to  Sally: 
She  is  the  darling  of  my  heart, 

And  she  lives  in  our  alley. 


My 
81 


My  master  and  the  neighbors  all 
Make  game  of  me  and  Sally, 

And,  but  for  her,  I'd  better  be 
A  slave  and  row  a  galley ; 


82 


But 


But  when  my  seven  long  years  are  out, 

Oh,  then  I'll  marry  Sally ! 
And  then  how  happily  we'll  live, 

But  not  in  our  alley. 


MOFMW" 


"EARLY  ONE  MORN/NG." 

ARLY  one  morning,  just  as  the  sun  was  rising. 
I  heard  a  maid  sing  in  the  valley  below: 
'  Oh,  don't  deceive  me !  oh,  never  leave  me ! 
How  could  you  use  a  poor  maiden  so? 


"  Oh,  gay  is  the  garland  and  fresh  are  the  roses 
I've  culled  from  the  garden  to  bind  up  my  brow. 

Oh,  don't  deceive  me !  oh,  do  not  leave  me ! 
How  could  you  use  a  poor  maiden  so  ? 


"  Remember  the  vows  you  made  to  your  Mary ; 

Remember  the  bow'r  where  you  vowed  to  be  true. 
Oh,  don't  deceive  me !  oh,  do  not  leave  me ! 

How  could  you  use  a  poor  maiden  so?" 


Thus  sang  the  poor  maiden,  her  sorrows  bewailing : 
Thus  sang  the  poor  maid  in  the  valley  below : 

"  Oh,  don't  deceive  me !  oh,  never  leave  me ! 
How  could  you  use  a  poor  maiden  so?" 


86 


^  & 


Jtftfy  ofQferaine 


KITTY  OF  COLERAINE. 


S  beautiful   Kitty  one  morning  was  tripping 

With    a   pitcher   of   milk    from    the   fair   of 
Coleraine, 
When  she  saw  me  she  stumbled,  the  pitcher  it 
tumbled, 
And   all   the   sweet   buttermilk   water'd   the 
plain. 


Oh,  what  shall  I  do  now?     'Twas  looking  at  you,  now. 

Sure,  sure,  such  a  pitcher  I'll  ne'er  meet  again. 
'Twas  the  pride  of  my  dairy.     Oh,  Barney  M'Leary, 
You're  sent  as  a  plague  to  the  girls  of  Coleraine ! 

I  sat 
9i 


*  ts 


X       *  •/      'I    *  •      -& 


I  sat  down  beside  her,  and  gently  did  chide  her, 

That  such  a  misfortune  should  give  her  such  pain. 

A  kiss  then  I  gave  her.  Before  I  did  leave  her, 
She  vow'd  for  such  pleasure  she'd  break  it  again. 


'Twas  haymaking  season.     I  can't  tell  the  reason — 
Misfortunes  will  never  come  single — that's  plain — 

For,  very  soon  after  poor  Kitty's  disaster, 

The  devil  a  pitcher  was  whole  in  Coleraine. 


OLD  KING  COLE 


OLD  KING   COLE. 


LD  King  Cole  was  a  merry  old  soul. 
And  a  merry  old  soul  was  he ; 
And  he  call'd  for  his  pipe, 
And  he  call'd  for  his  bowl, 
And  he  call'd  for  his  fiddlers  three. 

Then  twedle,  twedle,  twedle,  twedle,  twedle  went  the 
fiddlers ; 

Twedle,  twedle,  twedle,  twedle,  twedle,  twedle  twee. 
There's  none  so  rare  as  can  compare 
To  King  Cole  and  his  fiddlers  three. 


98 


rvv 


HAR  VEST-HOME. 


OME,  Roger  and  Nell; 
Come,  Simkin  and  Bell ; 
Each  lad  with  his  lass  hither  come. 
With  singing  and  dancing, 

In  pleasure  advancing 

To  celebrate  harvest -home. 
'Tis  Ceres  bids  play 
And  keep  holiday 
To  celebrate  harvest- home. 


Our  labor  is  o'er,  and  our  barns  in  full  store 

Now  swell  with  rich  gifts  of  the  land. 
Let  each  man  then  take,  for  the  prong  and  the  rake, 
His  can  and  his  lass  in  his  hand. 
'Tis  Ceres  bids  play 
And  keep  holiday 
To  celebrate  harvest- home. 


No  courtiers  can  be  so  happy  as  we 
In  innocent  pastime  and  mirth, 


While 


102 


While  thus  we  carouse  with  our  sweetheart  or  spouse, 
And  rejoice  o'er  the  fruits  of  the  earth. 
'Tis  Ceres  bids  play 
And  keep  holiday 
To  celebrate  harvest- home. 


104 


DOWN  IN 

CVPIDS 
GARDEN 


"'TWAS  DOWN  IN  CUPID'S   GARDEN." 


WAS  down  in  Cupid's  garden 
For  pleasure  I  did  go, 
To  see  the  fairest   flowers 
That  in  that  garden  grow. 
The  first  it  was  the  jessamine, 

The  lily,  pink,  and  rose, 
And  surely  they're  the  fairest  flow'rs 
That  in  that  garden  grows ! 


I'd  not  walked  in  that  garden 

The  part  of  half  an  hour, 
When  there   I  saw  two  pretty  maids 

Sitting  under  a  shady  bower. 
The  first  was  lovely  Nancy, 

So  beautiful  and  fair; 
The  other  was  a  virgin 

Who  did  the  laurel  wear. 


I  boldly  stepped  up  to  her, 

And  unto  her  did  say, 
Are  you  engaged  to  any  young   man  ? 

Do  tell  to  me,  I  pray ! 

1 08 


I'm 


I'm  not  engaged  to  any  young  man, 

I  solemnly  do  swear ; 
I  mean  to  live  a  virgin, 

And  still  the  laurel  wear. 


Then  hand  in  hand  together 

This  lovely  couple  went ; 
Resolved  was  the  sailor  boy 

To  know  her  full  intent — 
To  know  if  he  would  slighted  be 

When  to  her  the  truth  he  told. 
Oh  no  !   oh  no !    oh  no !   she  cried  ; 

I  love  a  sailor  bold. 


ViMIWiraUHMUMmWIUMfllfflHUM 


PHILLADA 
FLOUTS  ME 


...ii;s;;\I.IIM,liiillllli^'l'i:|ll!!l|a'll!i:;llll)'|[i;i;<MI!llili[ii'"'''     ^^lluKilllM.".,.,.!^^! 


*^#> 


PHILLADA. 


H,  what  a  pain  is  love ! 

How  shall   I  bear  it? 
She  will  unconstant  prove ; 
I  greatly  fear  it. 

"3 


She 


She  so  torments  my  mind 

That  my  strength  faileth, 
And  wavers  with  the  wind 

As  a  ship  saileth. 
Please  her  the  best  I  may, 
She  loves  still  to  gainsay: 
Alack  and  well-a-day! 
Phillada  flouts  me. 


All  the  fair  yesterday 

She  did  pass  by  me ; 
She  looked  another  way 

And  would  not  spy  me. 
I  woo'd  her  for  to  dine, 

But  could  not  get  her; 
Will  had  her  to  the  wine  — 

He  might  intreat  her. 
With  Daniel  she  did  dance; 
On  me  she  looked  askance : 
Oh,  thrice  unhappy  chance  ! 

Phillada  flouts  me. 


Fair 


114 


Fair  maid!    be  not  so  coy; 

Do  not  disdain  me ! 
I  am  my  mother's  joy: 

Sweet !  entertain  me  ! 
She'll  give  me  when  she  dies 

All  that  is  fitting: 
Her  poultry  and  her  bees, 

And  her  goose  sitting, 

116 


A  pair 


A  pair  of  mattress  beds, 
And  a  bag  full  of  shreds : 
And  yet,  for  all  this  guedes, 
Phillada  flouts  me. 


She  hath  a  clout  of  mine, 

Wrought  with  blue  Coventry, 

Which  she  keeps  for  a  sign 
Of  my  fidelity ; 


But 


117 


./"■--* 


yf  fL6. 


y 


But,  'faith,  if  she  flinch, 

She  shall  not  wear  it ; 
To  Tib,  my  t'other  wench, 

I  mean  to  bear  it. 
And  yet  it  grieves  my  heart 
So  soon  from  her  to  part: 
Death  strike  me  with  his  dart ! 
Phillada  flouts  me. 

118 


Thou 


Thou  shalt  eat  crudded  cream 
All  the  year  lasting, 

And  drink  the  crystal  stream 
Pleasant  in  tasting, 


Whig 


119 


Whig  and  whey  whilst  thou  lust, 

And  ramble -berries, 
Pie -lid  and  pastry  crust, 

Pears,  plums,  and  cherries ; 
Thy  raiment  shall  be  thin, 
Made  of  a  weevil's  skin — 
Yet  all's  not  worth  a  pin : 

Phillada  flouts  me. 

1 20 


Fair 


Fair  maiden !  have  a  care, 

And  in  time  take  me ; 
I  can  have  those  as  fair, 

If  you  forsake  me : 
For  Doll  the  dairy -maid 

Laughed  at  me  lately, 
And  wanton   Winifred 

Favors  me  greatly. 


One 


121 


One  throws  milk  on  my  clothes ; 
T'other  plays  with  my  nose : 
What  wanting  signs  are  those ! 
Phillada  flouts  me. 


I  cannot  work  nor  sleep 

At  all  in  season, 
Love  wounds  my  heart  so  deep, 

Without  all  reason. 
I  'gin  to  pine  away 

In  my  love's  shadow, 
Like  as  a  fat  beast  may 

Penned  in  a  meadow. 
I  shall  be  dead,  I  fear, 
Within  this  thousand  year : 
And  all  for  that  my  dear 

Phillada  flouts  me. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
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AN  INITIAL  FINE"0F  25  CENTS 

WILL   BE  ASSESSED   FOR   FAILURE  TO   RETURN 
THSBOOKONTHE  DATE   DUE.   THE   PENALTY 

L.m  Increase  to  so  cents  on  the  fourth 

^     InD    TOSEST.OO     ON     THE    SEVENTH     DAY 
OVERDUE. 


_^uu^— - - 


43 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


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